One Naughty Night2

by Laurel McKee

  Epilogue

  “You are quite sure this is what you want? A Huntington?” Lily heard Dominic say.

  She turned to smile at him amid the chaos backstage at the Majestic. It was the second opening night of Much Ado About Nothing, and the sensation of the notorious criminal Tom Beaumont being killed at the theater meant they were even more crowded than usual. Every seat was sold out, and excitement buzzed through the boxes and stalls as everyone waited for the curtain to rise.

  And she felt so much excitement of her own that she could hardly stand still. Tomorrow was her wedding day.

  “Of course it’s what I want,” she said.

  Dominic nodded and leaned his hand on the scenery flat behind them as he studied her. He wore his black velvet costume, his blond hair brushed back severely from his face. He looked suitably villainous to be Don John, but he finally smiled. It had taken some time, but after seeing what Aidan did to save Lily and Isabel, he had come around somewhat.

  But only to Aidan. The rest of the Huntington family were still an object of deepest hatred.

  Lily smoothed the braid-trimmed collar of his doublet. “He makes me happier than I ever thought it was possible to be. I’m so lucky to have him.”

  “Not half as lucky as he is to have you,” Dominic said. “Father certainly made him work to win permission to marry you.”

  She laughed as she remembered. “I don’t think sending Aidan to open a new theater was much of a punishment in the end. He can’t wait to take on such a project.” And she hoped to one day persuade him to produce his own plays there. But that was for the future.

  “Even though the theater is in Edinburgh?”

  “Scotland might be interesting. And it’s not forever.” Only until the Huntingtons came to accept their marriage. Lily didn’t say that aloud, though. Dominic seemed to be in a good mood at last, and she didn’t want to spoil it. “We won’t go there until after the honeymoon in Italy anyway. Once I return, I expect you might be the next to hear wedding bells.”

  He gave a harsh laugh, and she saw something harden in his eyes. “Not me, sister dear. I’m not made for marriage.”

  “One day some extraordinary lady will come along, Dominic, and change your mind. I am quite sure of it,” Lily said. “After all, it happened to me. And I never expected it at all.”

  “Five minutes, Mr. St. Claire!” the stage manager called.

  Dominic nodded to him. “Lily, I think your wedding plans have addled your mind. You’ll have to turn your new matchmaking urges onto Isabel and forget me.”

  “Isabel is young yet. And we shall see what happens to you. Now go, you’ll miss your cue.” Lily gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and watched him hurry toward the wings where the other actors waited.

  She could hear the orchestra launch into the prelude, muffled through the thick velvet curtains, and she tiptoed over to peek out at the audience. All the silks and jewels seemed to sparkle in the lights, excitement humming in the air. She smiled and glanced up at the box to the left where Aidan’s mother sat. The duke was not there, of course. After a blazing row where he threw a vase at Aidan and tried to run him over with his wheeled chair, he hadn’t been seen. But the duchess sat there in her brown velvet and diamonds, studying the gathering through her opera glasses, a silent, stalwart presence.

  Next to her sat a woman Lily had never seen before, a petite lady in lilac silk and spangled net, her white-blond hair twisted atop her head. She nodded at something the duchess whispered in her ear, but otherwise she was as still and pale as a statue.

  Lily heard a sound from the walkway above her head, and she nearly jumped. The fear and chaos of that terrible day had faded, pushed aside by happier days with Aidan and wedding plans, but sometimes nightmares still haunted her. She looked up to see Brendan leaning his palms on the railing, his black evening clothes and dark hair making him a part of the shadows. He stared at the duchess’s box from his spot above, a hard glare in his eyes that seemed to be directed to the lady in lilac.

  Then his stare shifted to Lily, and he nodded but didn’t smile. Dominic and their parents had come to accept the marriage, but Brendan had not. From the way he looked at the duchess’s companion, the raw fury and pain that had flickered over his face for the merest instant, she feared it would be a long time until he did.

  Brendan turned and disappeared into the scenery. Lily studied the audience again and waved to Isabel as her sister took her place onstage. Isabel looked beautiful in her Hero costume, her face radiant in her happiness to be onstage again. She had left that day behind as well, throwing herself into the play and into helping Lily choose wedding clothes. But Isabel seemed older now somehow, not as girlish or exuberant as before.

  An arm suddenly slid around Lily’s waist and drew her farther back into the wings. For an instant, she grew tense, ready to fight, but then she smelled Aidan’s wonderfully familiar scent of spicy soap and warm skin, fine wool, and starched linen, and she laughed.

  “Having a good evening?” he asked as he spun her around in his arms.

  “Better now,” she said. She went up on her toes in her satin slippers to tangle her fingers in the soft hair at his nape. She pressed her lips to his and breathed in the scent and heat of him, marveling again that he was hers. That tomorrow he would be her husband. “What have you been doing?”

  “I got my mother settled in her box with my cousin Elizabeth, and then I helped your father with a last-minute scenery adjustment,” he answered. “But I have to agree—the night just got much, much better.”

  He bent his head to kiss her neck, his lips sliding lightly over her skin until she shivered. “Come to the dressing room with me now. No one is there.”

  Lily shook her head, even as she wanted nothing more than to drag him into an empty room and tear his clothes off. “Not until tomorrow night. Then it will all be proper.”

  Aidan groaned and bit gently at the curve of her shoulder above her satin sleeve. “You are killing me. I don’t love you for your properness, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. You love me for my riding crop.” Lily pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and smiled at him. “And because I can’t do without you.”

  “You’ll never have to. We’re going to be together from now on. Life will always be one big adventure for us, Lily, I promise. Adventure and unending naughty nights.”

  One big adventure. Once, all Lily had wanted was quiet, stable respectability. Now adventure sounded exactly right, but only with Aidan. Always with Aidan.

  “I love you, Lily,” he said as the curtain soared up and the footlights flared.

  And Lily had never heard sweeter words in all her life. “And I love you, Aidan. Forever.”

  Enjoy a tantalizing peek at the next seductive St. Claire romance!

  Please turn this page for a preview of

  Two Sinful Secrets

  Available in December 2012

  Chapter One

  Baden-Baden, 1848

  When in doubt, Sophia Huntington Westman believed, give them a glimpse of stocking. That usually did the trick.

  Especially when one is dealt an unfortunate hand of cards.

  Sophia carefully studied the array of cards in her hand, but the colors didn’t change. She sighed and tried to keep her face calm and expressionless. She needed to win this game. Her stash of funds was growing astonishingly low, and she would be thrown out of her hotel if she couldn’t pay soon. But luck had utterly deserted her tonight.

  Not for the first time, she cursed the memory of her husband, the poor, late, not much lamented Captain Jack Westman. He had been so very handsome, so exciting, so sure Sophia was meant to be with him. That charming confidence had been what convinced her to elope with him, despite her family’s dire threats to cut her off without a penny if she married someone so unsuitable for a duke’s niece.

  But Jack’s confidence turned out to come from the bottom of a brandy bottle. And when the drink killed him, sending him stumbling
drunkenly in front of a milk wagon not far from where Sophia was taking the Baden-Baden waters, she was left here a penniless widow trying to make enough money to get home.

  Though what she would do once she got back to England, Sophia had no idea.

  She peeked over the top of her cards at the man who sat across from her. Lord Hammond had been her opponent in card games before. He always seemed to be in the casino when she arrived, and he always kissed her hand gallantly, fetched her wine, inquired after her health. So very solicitous. Yet she had hoped for an easier mark tonight of all nights. Tonight, when she needed to win so badly. Lord Hammond was too shrewd a player.

  But when he had taken her arm and invited her to a game of all fours, she somehow couldn’t say no. Lord Hammond, despite his fine English-gentleman manners, was obviously a man who expected to get what he wanted. That had been clear to Sophia the first time she met him here at the casino, for she had encountered his type many times in her travels with Jack. Rich, powerful lords, much like her uncle the Duke of Carston, who had every whim indulged with a snap of their fingers.

  But a card game was all he would get from Sophia. She hoped never to be so desperate that she had to give him anything else.

  He was studying his own cards, a cool smile on his lips. He was handsome; she would say that for him. Older than her own twenty-three years by two decades, he was tall and well built in his expensively cut clothes. His dark hair, gray at the temples, was cut short to frame his austere face and fathomless dark eyes. Women flocked around him, as he was that singular rarity—a handsome, rich lord. And he did seem to admire Sophia.

  If she was really smart, Sophia thought as she looked at him, she would take advantage of that admiration. She would cultivate it and encourage it. Lord Hammond could make the financial worries that had plagued her for so long vanish.

  But she had never claimed to be especially smart. If she was, she wouldn’t have married Jack. And there was something in Lord Hammond’s eyes when he looked at her that she did not like. Some icy gleam of speculation that sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to finish the game and be done with this wearisome night.

  But first she had to win his money.

  He raised his eyes from his cards and his smile widened as he looked at her. He was as good a card player as she was; she could read nothing about his hand on his face. Sophia remembered her thought about a glimpse of stocking and returned his smile with a bright one of her own.

  She turned slightly on her gilded chair, and her black satin skirts rustled as she moved. She glanced around the casino as she moved. Everything in the casino was gilded or painted with lavish classical scenes, the floors covered in Aubusson carpets and the walls papered in patterned silks. The colors were rich and elegant, the perfect backdrop for the fashionably dressed and bejeweled patrons who strolled between the tables and gathered around the roulette wheel. Despite her woes, Sophia liked coming to that place—its opulence made her feel calmer, more sure that everything would work out in the end. That nothing could go completely wrong in such a beautiful place.

  Only one other establishment had ever been so lovely, and that was the Devil’s Fancy club in London. But she had not seen it in years, not since before she met Jack. Before she lost everything, when she was a spoiled, naive girl who thought there could be no consequences for sneaking out of her parents’ house to go and gamble.

  The thought of the Devil’s Fancy made her freeze in her chair. She closed her eyes for an instant and it was like she was there again. That long-ago night was so vivid in her memory. He was vivid in her memory. Dominic St. Claire.

  She remembered his eyes, so intensely green as he looked at her across the card table. They would crinkle at the corners when he laughed or grow dark when he touched her with those elegant, long-fingered hands. He had made her feel as if she were the only woman in the room, the only woman in the whole world, when he focused his intent on her.

  And when he kissed her…

  Sophia shivered when she remembered the way his lips felt on hers. She had never wanted a man before, never felt herself turn hot and melt under a touch, as if the whole world had vanished except for him. Not even with poor Jack, who she had thought she loved.

  But Dominic had too many women, and they all came so easily to him. Surely he made them all feel as he had her that night. He was like a dream to her now. A precious, lost dream she took out like a glittering little gem when life seemed too lonely and cold. It reminded her of the girl she had once been. And it reminded her of how life could be, in another realm, another time.

  But now was not the time for such memories. Now was the time for cold, hard reality. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when faced with a man like Lord Hammond. She had to win tonight. Whatever it took.

  Sophia opened her eyes and smiled at Lord Hammond. His own smile hardened, a flicker of some cold light flashing through his dark gaze. Sophia casually crossed her legs beneath her heavy skirts and let the ruffled hem fall back to reveal her black satin heel and show a bit of white silk stocking. She swung her foot a bit as she studied the cards in her hand.

  Lord Hammond’s attention went right where she hoped it would, to her slim ankle, and in the mirror behind him she had a quick glimpse of his cards in his careless moment. Not so good as she had feared. She could still save this evening and come out ahead.

  Her glance flickered over her own reflection. Her skin looked very pale against the stark black of her gown and the sleek, glossy coils of her black hair. She had no jewels left to soften her austere attire and make her fit in with the rich crowd. There was only the narrow black ribbon around her throat and a guilty pink blush on her cheeks.

  Huntingtons never cheat! She remembered her father shouting that when her brother was caught once in a con artist’s scheme and lost a great deal of money. Huntingtons were an ancient ducal family, not cheaters. Not elopers. Yet here she was, driven to be both in her desperation.

  I am doing what I must to survive, she told herself sternly. She had no room for honor or sentiment now, not if she didn’t want to starve. Cards were the only thing she was good at. It was either gamble or whore for the likes of Lord Hammond. And she was not that desperate—yet.

  Sophia turned away from her reflection and from the memory of Dominic St. Claire’s green eyes. She gently fanned herself with her cards and laughed. “My goodness, but it is warm in here tonight,” she said. “I swear Baden-Baden grows more crowded by the day.”

  Lord Hammond’s gaze slid from her ankle up over her décolletage in the low-cut gown, and his smile widened. Sophia knew that look in his eyes. It was the look of a man who believed his goal was clearly in sight now. But she had a goal too. She would win his money without surrendering more than the merest glimpse of her person. They couldn’t both win.

  “Perhaps we should go for a stroll in the gardens,” Lord Hammond said smoothly. “It is much cooler, and quieter, there. I have been wanting the chance for private conversation with you, Mrs. Westman.”

  “How very flattering of you, Lord Hammond,” Sophia answered. Over his shoulder, she saw a lady entering the casino, a tall, stunning redhead clad in dove-gray silk with a truly stupendous collar of diamonds around her throat. It was Lady Gifford, who was rumored to be Lord Hammond’s latest mistress. She gave him a stricken, wide-eyed look before she whirled away and vanished into the crowd.

  Sophia looked back down at her cards. “There are so many who wish to… converse with you, Lord Hammond,” she murmured.

  “Ah, but I can see only you, Mrs. Westman,” he answered. “You look particularly lovely tonight. I am sure the gardens would be the perfect setting for your rare beauty.”

  “How sweet of you to say so,” Sophia said with a smile. “But we should finish our game first, yes? It would be a shame to let the cards go to waste.”

  His gaze traced over her bodice again, slowly and with a clear intent. Sophia had to fight to keep her smile in place. “Of course, my dear Mrs
. Westman. We certainly must finish the game.”

  As Lord Hammond ordered more champagne, Sophia requested two more cards and improved her hand. But beating her opponent was not quite as easy as she had hoped.

  An hour had passed with neither of them pulling ahead enough to win when Lord Hammond’s smile abruptly vanished. He folded his cards between his fingers and said with an exasperated note in his voice, “The night is wasting, Mrs. Westman.”

  Sophia peeked at him over her cards. “Is it indeed, Lord Hammond? It seems rather early to me.” She really agreed with him, but not for the same reasons she was sure he had. She was tired and wanted to find her bed—alone.

  If she went back to the hotel with enough money to pay for that bed, of course.

  “It is too crowded here,” Lord Hammond said. “So I propose we make this simple. We each draw a card, and high draw wins.”

  Intriguing. Sophia did like a high-stakes game—usually. “And what are the stakes?”

  “I will wager a thousand pounds,” he said easily, as if that vast amount was mere pocket change. For him it probably was.

  But it made Sophia catch her breath. A thousand pounds. Enough to get her home to England and help her set up a new life, a new business. One where she wouldn’t have to whore, or marry, again, or crawl back to her family and beg for forgiveness. One where she could be independent. All on the draw of one card.

  But…

  “I cannot wager such a sum in return,” she said cautiously.

  “I would not expect you to, my dear Mrs. Westman,” Lord Hammond said with a smile Sophia did not like at all. “All I ask is that you walk with me in the garden, and perhaps accompany me to my suite. I have some paintings I recently acquired that might interest you.”

  Paintings her foot. Sophia took his meaning quite clearly, for he was not the first to propose such an arrangement. She let her skirts drop, concealing her shoes, and put on her sternest, most governessish expression. “Lord Hammond, how very shocking you are.”